


if i doesnt takes cares of him, who wills?

by Pearly_Pornography



Category: Metalocalypse
Genre: Fluff, Gay Wrecks, M/M, Sickfic, Unsanitary, Vomiting
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-21
Updated: 2016-12-21
Packaged: 2018-09-10 00:12:39
Rating: Not RatedMature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,223
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8918980
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Pearly_Pornography/pseuds/Pearly_Pornography
Summary: It all started at 10 AM, on a day which was supposed to be their first recording day.





	

It all started at 10 AM, which was supposed to be their first recording day.

Toki was up, gently folding his clothes, cleaning up his room, feeding his pet bunny Jens and then taking a shower. However, his routine was interrupted by a rough knock on the door. Who was it? None other than his dearest friend, Nathan! Who appeared... quite panicked.

"Uh... The recording stuff has been... postponed."

"Whats? Why?"

"Yeah, I kinda need your help with that..."

He lead Toki down the hall to Murderface's doorway, which was already a terrible start. "So, I got up this morning to... y'know, get our shit together, I come in here... door's not locked. Already suspicious, don't trust that. So I open the door, and..."

He threw the door open. There was Murderface, curled up on his bed with his arms clutching his stomach, moaning in pain. Immediately Toki's sympathetic instincts turned on.

"What's wrongs?"

"He has like... a fucking awful flu. And he won't let me do anything. But, uh, I know you're like, his friend... or whatever. So... bye."

And with that, Dethklok's frontman was gone. Toki turned his attentions to his patient, now deciding to be Nurse Toki for the day. He shuffled to Murderface's bedside, tapping him on the shoulder, and was greeted by a sour glare. 

"Moidaface, you looks terribles."

"I alwaysch look terrible. Go away."

"You's stomach sounds like there ams a whole trains in theres!"

"Go away, 'm fine." Another resounding whine at the end of the sentence. Toki frowned, pulling Murderface's covers back. It smelled. Murderface was unwashed, his knees and legs were sticky with dried vomit, and he'd wet the bed.

"This ams terribles. You amn't's takin's cares a yourself!"

"Who caresch?!"

"Come on, go takes a baths, I'ms changin' you's sheets."

"Tokiiiii!"

"You gon's to be much more comfortable whens you's all nice and cleans. Go runs a bath, not a shower. I don't wants yous to pass out and falls over."

Murderface grunted, rolling out of bed in a big heap. Slowly, he shambled to the bathroom. "Oh, and keeps the doors opens!" Another groan from the bassist, who flopped into the bathtub. As soon as Toki could hear the water running, he redirected his focus to the bed itself. (Slovenly as Murderface was, Toki at the very least felt he deserved a clean sleeping spot.) The sheets were damp with sweat, piss and vomit. Even his pillowcases were filthy.

Toki hastily rung up a Klokateer and got the bedspread sent to the laundry. Due to Murderface's obnoxious lack of spare blankets, Toki just decided to house the poor bastard in his room for the day. But now that all that was done, he also quickly ran into the bathroom to have his clothes sent off as well. (Murderface was one of the only people in Dethklok who wore pajamas every now and then.)

"Moidaface, how's you doin's in there?"

"Nngh."

"You's gettin's nice and cleans?"

Toki pulled back the shower curtains. Murderface (in his nude glory) was slumped over in the bathtub, sweating more than Toki even thought was physically possible. Toki sighed, dumping some shampoo into his palm and immediately getting to work on that terrible bassist hair. Murderface groaned, trying and failing to bat his hands away.

"Schtop, thisch'sch gay."

"Shush." Toki grabbed a bar of soap, lifting his patient's leg and cleaning all of the dirt and grime off of it. "Jeez, you's a mess."

"Can't keep down scholid food." He grumbled in reply. "...I want a fuckin' cheeschburger..."

"When's you's feelin's betters, I'll takes you's to Dimmu Boigers."

"But I want one now."

"Well I'm sorries." Toki sighed, slowly cleaning off the rest of Murderface's body. "Moidaface, you's cleans you's dongers?"

"My wh... Aw, grossch! What the fuck?!"

"Well it ams importants! You could gets infekkshons, or--"

"W-whatever, juscht... jeesch..." Murderface snatched the soap bar out of Toki's hand, quickly scraping it across his nether regions without even looking up. "There. Isch clean. Are you happy now, gonna schtop aschkin' me dick queschtionsch?!"

"Yes. You's all cleans..." Toki took a bit of water in his hands, washing out the shampoo. It was completely weird seeing Murderface's hair sticking down and not frizzing outward. "Alrights, gets up, gets drys. You needs anythins?" Murderface shuffled out of the tub, dripping onto his bathroom floor. It was then that Toki noticed he still had his damn socks on. "Get you's wet socks off, you's feeties will gets cold." The bassist rolled his eyes, but complied.

"Don't pat me down with that fuckin' towel, I can do it myschelf." Murderface grabbed a towel out of Toki's hands, quickly giving himself a rub-down before handing it back. "Need fuckin' clothesch... Uuugh, where're my jammiesch?! Toki!"

"Dey was dirties, so I gets dem cleans."

"Fuck! I can't schtand 'ere naked!"

"Don't use all you's energies yellin's at me, I don't wants you's to pass out." Toki threw another towel over Murderface's shoulders, and he quickly wrapped it around his waist. "You can borrows my underwears or somethin's."

"They ain't gonna fit. I got my own."

"Oh, dat's good. You's gots you's own."

"Of coursche I do, the fuck do you think I wear under my pantsch."

"Freeballs?"

Murderface didn't respond, instead opting to shakily pull some boxers out of his drawer and drag them onto his body. "Dere, you's lookins better alreadies."

"Where the fuck're my sheetsch."

"I gets 'em cleans. Dey ams covers in piss 'n sweats. You can sleeps in my rooms."

"Y-your room?!"

"Come ons." Toki gave him a pout, before gently scratching at the side of his head. Murderface, not in the mood to argue, allowed him to do it, even pressing into the sensation. "You gots to be watcheds, by Tokis. Because I ams responsibles."

"Nngh."

"Come ons, you's..." He, very slowly, dragged Murderface over his shoulder. Sure, those muscles weren't for nothing, but it didn't make Murderface any less heavy. But frankly, Toki would break his back for Murderface. (They were friends. Murderface refused to accept anything more than that.) Regardless, after what felt like an eternity he dropped Murderface off into his bed. "Anythin's else you wants? A book? A stuffs animals?"

"A bucket."

"A bu..." Toki shot up, immediately grabbing his wastebasket. Murderface lurched over it, coughing sticky, smelly bile into it. His lips trembled. Another heave, though this one was dry. Toki patted his back as soon as it was over.

"God. Fuck." Murderface groaned, rolling over onto his back like a beached whale. "Thisch schucksch! My gut'sch killin' me!"

"...Y'wants a tummy rub?"

"Fuckin'..." The bassist curled his lips, baring his unclean, gap-teeth. "Do whatever you want." Toki shrugged, reaching over to his bared, protruding stomach, and gently rubbing his hand across its underside. Murderface let out a grunt of begrudging approval, so he continued. (It was almost therapeutic, really. Like a child, Toki was almost always amused by anything soft and squishy, regardless of where it came from.)

"You feelins betters, Moidaface?"

"I guessch." He crossed his arms limply over his body. "You gonna schtay here all day?"

"Until you's in poifects condictions."

"...'m gonna take a nap."

"Alrights, I cares about you. I lo--"

"Love you too."

A product of his feverish delirium, Toki assumed. And yet, he couldn't help but smile.


End file.
